


Failing For You

by 3jelly_beanss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Monsters, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Construction Worker Dean Winchester, Dean isn't a student so it's not wierd, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Stanford Student Sam Winchester, Teacher Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3jelly_beanss/pseuds/3jelly_beanss
Summary: “I can’t fail!” Sam had exclaimed, head in his hands, trying somehow to not accept defeat. “If only Dad were here, he could, I don’t know, talk to him, make him give me some extra credit, something!”“You want me to talk to ‘im?” Dean asked. "I could threaten to beat him up if he doesn’t pass my baby brother.”Sam glared at him and Dean snorted.“I’m joking, obviously. I’d murder him.” Sam shot him another murderous look. “Okay, okay, I’ll seduce him, then. Fewest people get hurt.”-Sam is failing a class, and of course it's the one with the most annoying, stuck-up teacher, Mr. Novak. Enter Dean Winchester, college dropout and class clown extraordinaire, ready to fuck shit up.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	Failing For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first meeting :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: cancer/character dying from cancer, abuse, alcoholism, some religious stuff, mild swearing

Sam Winchester was failing school. Okay, wait scratch that. He was failing (by about 8 points) one of his college classes. Saying it like that made it seem better, but it didn’t make him feel any better. What was worse, though, was his teacher was a stuck-up prick that didn’t make exceptions or even offer extra credit, so if he didn’t ace the next five tests, he might flunk out of his first course. Dean had been proud of him.

His brother had clapped him on the back, saying, “That’s my Sammy, failing his first class!”

Sam had scoffed and frowned deeply. “It’s Sam. And that’s not what you’re supposed to do, you know.”

“I know, but it’s all a part of the experience!” Dean said with a grin. “Speaking of the experience, have you been to a college party yet? You could totally invite me. Phew, I’d love to kick it with some college girls-”

“Dean, that’s just creepy. You’re, like, five years too old for college.”

“I’m only twenty-seven! Let me live a little!”

“Either way, I don’t go to parties. I don’t have enough time with Mr. Novak’s month-long projects,” He groaned.

“Mr. Novak?”

Castiel Novak (though he required his students to call him Mr. Novak) was Sam’s World Religions teacher, and he had a major stick up his ass. He’d gotten his degree a couple years ago, so most people thought he’d be one of those trying-too-hard-to-be-cool teachers, y’know, the kind who say “hip” a lot and assign a bunch of artistic projects? No, he didn’t seem to try and get kids to like him at all. His projects were a combination of a research paper, a philosophical study, multiple examples of the research topic, and a symbolic art piece with its own explanatory paper. Sam was smart, sure, but doing one of these every month for a semester? Even one was like torture and left him feeling braindead, not to mention the terrifying pop quizzes that came with them. Sam was more than a little frustrated with the man and his harsh policies and dumb projects.

“I can’t fail!” Sam had exclaimed, head in his hands, trying somehow to not accept defeat. “If only Dad were here, he could, I don’t know, talk to him, make him give me some extra credit, something!”

“You want me to talk to ‘im?” Dean asked. Sam looked up, hope written all over his face. “I could threaten to beat him up if he doesn’t pass my baby brother.”

Sam glared at him and Dean snorted.

“I’m joking, obviously. I’d murder him.” Dean held up his hands as Sam shot him another murderous look. “Okay, okay, I’ll seduce him, then. Fewest people get hurt.” Sam groaned, exasperated, and ignored his brother.

Dean ended up coming anyways, with only two months left in the semester and Sam’s grade having dropped to a 57.

Sam watched Dean trying to slick his dirty blonde hair up just the right way, doing it and undoing it more than ten times in the mirror. He was wearing his best flannel, a red one, over a very tight black shirt with some jeans. Sam furrowed his eyebrows as he passed the bathroom again and saw his brother flashing himself cocky smiles.

“Dean, I know what you always say-” Sam started, only to be cut off.

“I’m bi, so everyone’s in danger?” Dean asked with a grin, eliciting a snort from Sam.

“Yes. But, you’re not actually trying to seduce my teacher, are you?” He asked, seeming scared of the answer.

“No, I’m not, I’m just trying to look professional. This Novak guy could be ugly as hell for all I know.” Dean paused and raised an eyebrow at Sam. “Is he ugly?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t know!” He pursed his lips and strode away, an annoyed look on his face.

Stanford University was beautiful. The buildings were big, made of red and yellow brick, ivy often creeping up the sides. Dean admired the vast, green lawns as Sam speed walked to class. He spun around when he found that Dean wasn’t following him, and instead admiring an ornately decorated fountain spewing clear blue water.

“Sammy, look at this!” Dean wore a look of pure excitement as he dipped his hand in and out of the water.

“Dean,” Sam hissed. “You’re not supposed to do that!” Dean took his hand out sheepishly, waved it in the air, and wiped it on his pants. Sam sighed. “ We’re almost late, get over here!” He ran a hand through his floppy chestnut-colored hair and started off again towards his class, not waiting to see if Dean was following.

His older brother did follow, though he stopped every few minutes to admire some new aspect of the Stanford campus. They managed to reach the Religious Studies building in time, and the brothers burst into Mr. Novak’s room just as the man stood to begin class.

Castiel turned and cocked an eyebrow, though his expression was blank, blue eyes staring icily at Dean. He wore a dress shirt, a blue tie that was backwards, black slacks, and, oddly enough for the California heat, a tan trench coat. His black hair was messy and stuck out in odd places, and he had light scruff, like he’d forgotten to shave in the morning.

“Sam.” He nodded at his student, and then turned to Dean, who swallowed nervously under the teacher’s scrutiny. “And who is this?”

“Dean, my brother.” Sam explained quickly. “I’m sorry, he’s got work after this and he needs the car as soon as class is over, and I need to get to my job right after that too. Could he sit in on class today?”

Castiel flinched from Sam’s furrowed eyebrows and puppy dog face. Reluctantly, he gave them a small nod.

“Thank you, Mr. Novak.” Sam said, leading Dean to sit next to him in his spot towards the middle of the lecture hall.

“Did you come up with that on the spot?” Dean whispered.

“No, I came up with it in the car.” Sam responded with a smile.

“Nice,” Dean chuckled. “Now how long do I have to be here?” He asked, settling into an uncomfortable chair next to Sam. Sam flashed him two fingers and Dean cursed under his breath.

While Sam took notes on ‘how different religions have been incorporated into pop culture’ or something, Dean found himself exploring the room with his eyes. It wasn’t crazy big, he figured because religion wasn’t the most popular thing to study in college, but it did have six rows of chairs. There were a few windows, all reminiscent of a church in that they were long and rectangular, two of them even being stained glass. Paintings adorned the walls filled with religious motifs and gods of religions across the world: Hindu, Egyptian, Greek, Eastern, Western, and everywhere in between. Novak seemed to like angels, what with the amount of them decorating his room. Dean was particularly entranced with what looked like a more recent painting of a bible-accurate angel floating in the clouds. There were eyes and wings and beams of light radiating out of golden rings also covered in eyes. Eventually, he got bored with looking around the room. Even looking out of the windows was boring, the only thing outside them being unchanging buildings and a few swaying trees. 

Dean poked Sam in the arm and his brother shot him a glare. “Sam,” Dean whispered, “Could I have some paper? Oh, and a pencil?”

Sam handed it over, rifling through his notebook for a few sheets of paper. It was only after he ripped them out that he realized the whole room had gone silent. He looked up to see Mr. Novak and a handful of the students staring at him.

“Sam, if your brother is distracting you, I can move him somewhere else.” Castiel said, surprisingly calm, though there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“No, I’m sorry, he just wanted some paper.” Sam said, laughing nervously. He handed his brother the paper and a pencil and growled, “Here, Dean.”

Dean gave Castiel an enthusiastic grin and a thumbs up, which the teacher eyeballed and decided to ignore, continuing with the lecture. A few minutes later, Dean elbowed Sam and muttered under his breath, “Separate us, like this is second grade.” He giggled to himself, eliciting a glare from Sam, and also one from Castiel that he didn’t see until he looked up. Almost the whole class was staring at him. Dean waved, and Sam groaned, burying his reddening face in his hands.

“Dean, was it?” Castiel asked, voice gravelly, and Dean nodded. “I’m going to need you to sit here.” He pointed to one spot of many in the sparse front row, this one just left of center. Dean got up, bringing his pencil and paper with him, the smirk on his face not matching the situation he was in. Sam sighed. Dean had always had a problem with authority. Castiel spoke up again. “I trust you can be quiet so I can continue with my lecture?”

“No problem, Novak,” Dean answered with a small salute as he sat down. Castiel pursed his lips, obviously deciding whether or not he was going to correct Dean. Thankfully, he decided against it, launching back into the exceedingly boring lecture both of the Winchesters were having trouble focusing on.

Dean doodled through the rest of class, and he almost didn’t notice when it ended. Sam had tapped him on the shoulder and he’d jumped, quickly covering his doodles with his arms. He folded the papers and got up.

“It’s, uh, over?”

“Yup.” Sam said, then cocked an eyebrow at his brother. “What did you draw?”

Dean gulped. “Oh, you know, dragons, angels, random shit. A sun with sunglasses on.”

Sam was about to say something when Castiel cut in. “I never understood that. The sun, quite obviously, would never need to shield its eyes from the sun. It’s illogical.” The teacher approached the Winchesters and stopped in front of them.

“Dean, did you enjoy class?”

Dean’s eyebrows raised. He quickly recovered, giving Castiel a wink and a coy grin. “Of course. Very interesting stuff, Novak.”

“Mr. Novak. And I’m glad. I thank you for your silence in, ah, the second part of class.” He said pointedly.

“It was no problem.” He said. “Now, if you have some time, I’m going to need to ask you a favor.” Both of Castiel’s eyebrows raised. “Sammy here is having some trouble in your class, and, y’know, he needs some helping out. I’d really appreciate any opportunities you can give him to get some extra points, raise his grade.” Cas’s face was stony. “He’s told me how much he likes this class, he just gets overwhelmed with the workload. Anything you can do would be great.”

After that, Sam told his teacher they had to go and quickly ushered Dean out, staying behind a few seconds to profusely apologize for his brother’s behavior.

“It’s fine. I get it, I have… annoying brothers.” Castiel paused. “The more annoying thing was the staring.”

“The… staring.” Sam processed. He flushed pink. “Oh, he just, um, isn’t one for social cues. I’m sorry, Mr. Novak.” He turned to go.

“Wait, Sam. I’ve got an idea.” Cas said tentatively. “You can’t tell any of the other students about this, you understand? But, I could give you an extra project as a test grade, you know, to raise your grade.”

“I- um, wow, thanks. What kind of project?”

Sam was so done with Mr. Novak. He complained to Dean on their way back to the car. “I can’t believe it! You told him how overwhelmed I was, and so he gives me another project to get my grade up? What’s wrong with him!”

“What’s the project?” Dean asked.

“It’s an investigation into the Apocalypses of different religions, you know, Revelation, Armageddon, Ragnarok. But he said it had the same guidelines of any other project, so how is that supposed to help me at all?” Sam groaned, exasperated.

“Well, I could do it for you.” Dean told him. Sam turned, face hopeful. “You should definitely look it over to make sure I don’t fuck it up, but I can do it. You’ve got a month, right?”

“Yeah. You could really do that? Oh my god, thank you.”

“Jesus, don’t go getting all sappy on me, Sammy.” Dean said with a smirk, climbing into the driver’s side of the Impala. Sam scoffed and climbed into shotgun.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean retorted, and they drove back home.

The Winchester had always had an odd concept of ‘home,’ what with their father being a traveling handyman and avid criminal that traversed the country on hacked credit cards for years. They used to live in a normal house, two-story, four bedroom, three bath, complete with a mother. But then, when Sam was only one, the house burned down, the boys and their father narrowly escaping with their lives. Their mother, Mary, wasn’t so lucky. That was when life started to go downhill. Their poor handyman father, John, became an angry drunk, always taking it out on his boys, but most of all Dean. Dean had almost turned into the mini version of him, but then the brothers had been released from his hold when Dean was twenty, and their father was diagnosed with liver cancer. It was stage three before they could process that their violent, strong, undefeatable father was really dying. They watched him grow frailer and more dependent as the days went by. It was impossible to keep a grudge against a pathetic, dying old man, and it was hard for John to think about anything but the mistakes he’d made. On his deathbed, he told them to leave him, saying how sorry he was that he’d ruined their lives. Dean and Sam still harbor grudges against who their father used to be, but that day, when he cried and pleaded for their forgiveness with weak, shaky hands, they forgave him. He wasn’t the same man. He died a week later. Dean had gotten a job in construction a while ago to pay for hospital bills, one he has to this day, though he transferred to Stanford, California. Sam started with a job at a grocery store, then he worked retail, then he found a boring office job at an architecture company. Dean teased him often about how he was technically a secretary.

They didn’t have a traditional home, even in Stanford. As children, their dad had lived by hopping from motel to motel, so that was what felt normal to the two. They’d gotten the next step up from that, though: a two-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t anything fancy, but they could cook and shit and sleep in different beds, so it was enough for them.

They got back to the apartment, and Dean dropped his papers on the table and immediately realized he was almost late for work.

“Shit, Sam, where are my keys? I gotta fuckin’ go!” Sam pointed to where the keys to his precious Impala were gripped in his fist, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, I gotta go, but don’t eat anything! I’m makin’ burgers tonight.” He said with a grin. He patted his pockets to make sure he had everything.

“I won’t eat anything, I promise. Now, get out of here, they’re gonna fire you, man!”

“No, they’re not, I’m too good a worker,” He responded with a cocky grin, opening the door. “See ya!” He slammed the door behind him. As Sam heard the Impala’s engine roar to life, he approached the papers Dean had been so anxious to hide from him earlier.

The youngest Winchester filtered through them, and an incredulous look spread across his face. There were doodles of angels, something that looked a lot like a painting Castiel had of a Bible-accurate angel, a few things scratched out, a couple of simple dick drawings, but the overwhelming majority of the doodles were of his teacher. There was a pretty good one of Mr. Novak glaring at the person looking at it, and it was almost realistic too. There was a stick figure Castiel fighting a stick figure Dean, both holding lightsabers. There was one of Castiel with a halo and wings, and another of him with devil horns, a tail, and a stick up his butt. Sam snorted. It seemed like Dean liked his new teacher.


End file.
